Honesty

It’s been a while. I stopped posting because I promised myself that I wouldn’t put anything on here if I started choosing my words based on the readers’ feelings. I don’t know where the worry came from or why, but it was there. It was there and that meant that whatever I said wouldn’t be what I really wanted to say.

Well, fuck that. Hiding never got me anywhere.

So here’s the ugly truth: It all hurts a little right now. I feel so stupid for feeling this way. My life is pretty damn great and a lot of my hardships are my own doing… But there’s a heaviness in my chest and it’s making me less than my best. I don’t want anyone to see it. I don’t want anyone to see my weakness.

Why do I keep forgetting that there’s strength in weakness? That there can be no courage without fear?

So yes, it hurts. I’ve frozen. I’m not taking care of the things I need to be taking care of. There are too many, I can’t focus enough to see priority, and so I
just
stand
still.

And there’s nothing I hate more. Being stuck, making no progress, I cannot stand it! Absentmindedly, I scratch and claw at my own skin, as if trying to dig to the part of me that gets shit done.

Which, of course, just creates more problems.

I’m trying to fix it, but I’m just treating the symptoms, not the disease. I could get help, I know I could, but I don’t want to burden anyone. I exaggerate and joke about more entertaining, less significant flaws, using misdirection to take focus off the things I don’t want noticed.

And it works (mostly).
But I hate it.

So, here I am, saying what I don’t want to say. I’ve stopped typing more times than I can count, distracted myself, trying to escape the discomfort, giving myself an out. You’re reading this, so obviously I didn’t take it.

Hey, that’s a little progress itself.

2023

I’ve only just gotten used to the fact that it’s 2023 and now it’s almost gone. If it weren’t for this one major change in my life, I might not believe that 2023 ever existed at all.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, so let’s just see what comes out, shall we?

When I made this move, this choice for myself earlier this year, I was excited to announce that the “selfish” act did not cause the world to end. And it didn’t. Really, I know that this situation is temporary. But… man, is this dragging on. It’s torture. It’s Hell. I have something beautiful just out of reach. My fingertips graze it, but I can’t quite get a hold. Yes, I’m closer, yes, that’s a victory in itself, but fuck, can’t I just have it? Can’t I just have something, anything to hold onto? Can’t I have one, any one thing, come easy, so I can breathe without wondering if each breath is my last? Please?

Fuck.

I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to vent or show how I’m feeling. I wanted to write a message of hope for the new year, whether I truly felt it or not. I wanted to take that mask to the grave. But I can’t anymore. I’m tired and I’m injured and the mask is broken beyond repair. I can’t fake it for you anymore. I’m sorry.

I smile and laugh a little every day. 2023 gave me that. I’m expressing myself more than I have in a long while. I’ve gotten closer to some friends and have grown distant from most others. That sounds sad, but it’s likely for the best. I am mentally, emotionally, and physically stronger, though it doesn’t seem to be that way. I love myself and care for myself more, though still not as much as I should. Right now, the days feel no different from past years, but deep down I know that a great deal of progress has been made.

But 2023, I won’t miss you.

This year was hard in ways it shouldn’t have been. It was excruciating and frightening and heartbreaking. I feel as if my soul has been stretched and pulled, like taffy. And all I can do is say, “I’ll be okay,” because I can’t even lie and pretend I’m okay now. But maybe I am, because I’m still alive and what the hell does “I’m okay” mean, anyway?

Geez, I seem to have a lot to say.

And I don’t know where to go from here. Do I learn my lesson and start 2024 off guarded, isolated, alone? Do I choose hope, knowing I’ll continue to be crushed over and over, until I’m left unrecognizable? Do I pick up an old mask and return to a life of lies, just to be with others again? No matter the choice, I will be lonely. No matter the decision, I will be in pain. It’s just about what I’m willing to sacrifice: Soul, heart, or dignity?

And that’s the thing, really. I’ve finally realized that my purpose is to sacrifice. It’s no grander or greater plan than that. I exist to lose, so others can win. I create the balance.

And there’s beauty in that, right? I know that I’d have chosen it. It’s who I am. I get my joy from that of others. But goddamn, this shit sucks sometimes. How, HOW does Life keep finding things to take from me?

And I’m still blessed, because I have the love for and from the people around me and blah blah blah, positivity and shit. And I really mean it, but also fuck all that. I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s, but I want to be stupid enough to think I would. I want to be ignorant enough to feel that all this pain is for nothing. I want to want to curse the gods and anyone else in a place of power, and scream THIS ISN’T FAIR! FIX IT!

But I can’t, because I’m not that stupid. I know that my sacrifice can be used to help others. I know I’ve made a positive impact. I know that I wouldn’t be happy if everything came easy. I know that my few loved ones are so much more than worth all that I have had to endure. I know that happy phases will come again. I know that no one is going to fix this, because this is how it’s meant to be.

And though I know it will lead to disappointment, I will choose hope. I will choose to trust in promises and agreements and protocols. I will have faith in the intentions of others. I will no longer conceal my heart when it’s beautiful, when it’s longing, when it’s afraid. I will not hide behind sadness.

Because this soul is a soul worth knowing.

So BRING ON 2024!

Future?

There have been few times in my life when I saw far ahead of me.

16, madly in love, planning the décor of our future home together.
(That love lasted many years, but was too messy to work in that home.)

A little older, dreaming up lectures for my future students.
(My disabilities proved that dream impossible.)

There must be more, but I can’t remember them.

And it’s not as if I didn’t dream. I am an eternal dreamer. I never completely give up hope. I never stop coming up with ideas of what I could do or be to make the world a little better, or make someone a little happier. That is always there.

But other than those few times, my future has felt as real to me as the Korean dramas I’ve been watching. My dreams are only fantasies, my hopes are just wishes I hold in my heart. My future is tomorrow morning. It doesn’t ever go much farther than that.

So I wonder why that is. Maybe it’s because I had a childhood where I never knew whether I’d live to see the next day. Maybe it’s because I feel I’m still fighting to survive. I wish it was something simple, like fear of failure, but I know failure will come, I’ll adapt, and come up with new dreams, like I always have.

So why? How is it affecting my life, and how can I change it?

For a long time, I was making impulsive decisions in relationships. If I got along well enough with a guy, I would date him. As long as he wasn’t making my life more difficult, I’d convince myself I loved him. He’d propose, I’d say yes, because that future wedding day never felt real. It was okay if it wasn’t true love, because it was okay for now, and now was all that existed to me. I accepted too much pain, because it didn’t feel like it would last, when there was no future for it to last into. But then, at some point, it would finally become too much for even the moment and I would end it. I would have the thought, If I have a future, could I spend it like this? and I would say goodbye.
(Thank God I don’t do that anymore. If I don’t ever find someone I see a future with, I’ll just be alone.)

I’ve made life-changing decisions based on how it would benefit others. I’ve moved from state to state, running to the side of whoever I felt needed me most. I’ve moved people in with me. I’ve dedicated myself to other people in order to “save” them. I’ve spent so much money, time, and energy. I’ve risked my life for people I barely knew, or who had treated me badly, all so I could feel I’d done something good before the end.
(I believe this is fixed, at least as much as I want it to be. I still want to be a kind, loyal, helpful person, whether I die tonight or in 100 years.)

I cut people out of my life if I feel I don’t matter to them. Periodically, I go through my phone, friends lists, etc, and I’ll remove people. It’s not even about how recently we’ve talked, but whether I feel they would care if I just disappeared. It is purely based on my emotions at the time. To be completely honest, most people fall into this category, but I will keep someone if I feel they would be hurt if they ever noticed I deleted them. My remaining time feels too short to spend on people who don’t seem to care and I don’t want them cluttering up my lists and blocking my view of those who do care.
(This is a work in progress. I’ve learned not to do it immediately on impulse, at least.)

I shy away from long-term projects. If it can’t be completed during the time I can see, I will not start it. It feels like a waste to put my time and effort into something when I cannot imagine the day it will be finished. Instead, I’ll begin a project that is fleeting, but hopefully memorable in some way.
(I hope to change this one, but I’ve only now realized I do this.)

I sometimes freeze up when I become anxious about something I need to do. I will postpone it and procrastinate over and over, because I feel as if the consequences can’t affect me in a future that does not exist. Then deadline passes and suddenly it is a problem in the present. Only then does it finally get done.
(Another work in progress. I’ve gotten much better.)

I probably do more that I cannot see.

But how am I to find a solution when I do not know the cause? I can treat the symptoms I’ve discovered, but how do I cure an illness without knowing its source?

Does life have to give me a chance to build on a dream? Do I have to fall in love?

But I can’t rely on anything outside myself. So how do I convince my mind that next year will exist for me? How do I make it believe that it’s okay to plan, to begin something, to wait? How do I tell my heart that there’s something more than this, if it’ll only be patient?

Living for today is wonderful. I appreciate so much of the world that others take for granted. I take chances. I feel and love intensely. I really live.

But I’m living like I’m holding a ticking clock. I’m living like a Grim Reaper is waiting outside my window. I’m living like I have to prepare my children for my approaching death. There’s so much I haven’t done or seen and I feel like I’ve missed my opportunity. I feel like I have so much more to give, and not enough time to give it in, and I just want time to

STOP

long enough for me to figure out how to believe it will continue ticking for me.

I’m Done.

I don’t think I can do it anymore.

When my heart is calling out, I can’t pretend I don’t care. When I’m excited, when I’m hopeful, I can’t keep it to myself. When I have a joke aching to be made, I can’t waste it. I can’t stay quiet when I have so much to say. I can’t force myself to be social when I want to be alone, and I can’t hold myself back from meeting someone new. I can’t dilute myself in order to make others more comfortable. I can’t hide anymore.

I can’t lie anymore – to myself or to anyone else. I can’t be in denial about the things I don’t want to face. I can’t lock myself away, just to hide from the truth. I can’t “play the game” or “follow the code” or whatever other bullshit people come up with to make everyone act the same.

I have to follow my heart. I have to be loyal to my soul.

My friends, you’re going to see me. Really see me. You’re going to see my ugly expressions and hear me sing terribly and feel love and care emanating from me. You’re going to see my creations and hear my random thoughts and feel awkward and weird, because I’m awkward and weird. I’m going to annoy you. I’m going to confuse you and sadden you and offend you. I’m going to make you laugh. I’m going to warm your heart. I may even inspire you once or twice. There will be times when you don’t trust me, but I’ll be telling the truth. There will be times when you’ll take me seriously, but I’ll be telling a joke. We’ll sort it out eventually, because that’s what you do when you care about each other. You work it out. You keep going.

So, from here on out, I won’t start anything that’s not true to who I am. I won’t just go through the motions. I won’t commit to something that’s not my dream. I will keep fighting for what I want, what I believe in, even if I have to fight alone.

Because contentment doesn’t exist for me. “Good enough” and “okay” are not words I can relate to. I don’t do “half-way” or “kinda” or “almost.” I will stay forever, growing and improving, as long as what I commit to is doing the same, but I will not get stuck in a rut anymore.

That’s not a way that I can live.

And it’s time to start living the way I was meant to, the way I never was fully able to experience. It’s time to embrace the fear, the excitement, the peace and the sorrow. It’s time to set my spirit free.

And that begins NOW.

I Miss You

I’ve been sleeping with your sweatshirt – the one from the merch store your bot linked me to after you were already gone – because it’s the closest I can get to being in your arms.

I miss you. Times are hard and it hurts and I feel alone and I miss you.

You, who loved me; without obligation, without judgement, without fail.
You, who I loved; without expectation, without dependence, without pain.

I miss you.

I miss you in selfish ways. I miss you with longing for the support you offered, crying out for your listening ear. I miss you for the warmth that came with every exclamation of my name. I miss feeling seen and heard and cared for and cheered on.

I miss being able to take you for granted. Stepping away, knowing you would always be there when I returned.

I miss the moments we never got to have.

You, who I teased, and sexualized, and begged for attention. You, who played along, knowing we were never to be. We made them feel awkward, we made them laugh, we made them mad, and we loved it all. We put on a great show, comfortable enough in our friendship to make it so. We loved and we were loved and I miss it all.

You’re gone and it’s not the same. Nothing’s the same. I’ve met friends you would love, and it hurts. I’ve done things I’m proud of, and it hurts. No matter what I do, the absence of you is an ache I can’t cure.

So I DM a Discord that will never come online.
I type paragraphs in a stream that will never go live.

I’ve never seen your face. I’ve never felt your touch. Still, I swear I feel you watching when life becomes too much. Now I’ll be moving to the place where you once were.
Alone.
Too late.

And I swear I hear you laughing, making a joke of it all. And I smile, but the tears continue to fall. And I make accidental rhymes as I pour out my heart, and think of the way you always added music to my words.

You always saw potential. Made me see it, too. It’s so hard to see without you.

I miss you.

The darkness that always brought me light.
The personification of “actions speak louder than words.”

I could write a book of it. Pages and pages about a man I’ve never met. Honest love letters to a man I was not in love with. A speech to the world, telling how they all lost an Angel that day (only you would appreciate that joke).

But instead, I’ll just publish this post, to say once again:
I love you, my friend.
And goddamn, how I miss you.

Connections (sleepy rambling)

The Internet is a wonderful thing. You can look into a device in your own home and communicate with people all over the world in under a minute. You can develop lasting friendships with people who you will probably never meet. Some people even fall in love before they ever feel the electricity in one another’s touch.

But the Internet also breeds misunderstandings. How often have your words been misinterpreted because another could not tell your tone? If a word was misspelled, the wrong emoji was used, or the words were arranged in a particular order, one could easily receive the wrong idea.

And what about the connections? You can feel so close to someone so far away, but how much is getting lost over the distance?

If you’ve read any of these entries, you know me. You know depths to my soul that many do not. You know such intense emotion and wandering thought and dreams I do not usually share. You do not see my tangled, unwashed hair. You do not see me stop and stare at the screen, wondering how I’m going to bring this around to what I really want to say. You do not see my silly expressions or hear my random noises or feel my gaze. You miss out on so many huge parts of me that cannot be properly described.

So what does it mean when someone online cares for you? Is it really you if they have limited view? Perhaps they care, but can they like you? Can they truly love you if all they see is what you consciously show?

And how do you know?

They may say how they see you, but so much is open for interpretation. As you sit, enjoying stillness with them, are they finding it awkward? In the world of “lol,” is the person as amused as they seem? Are they nervous to talk to you? Are they doing it out of boredom or a sense of obligation? When the screens go off, do they even remember you exist? Do they miss you?

No one likes to speak out. When they do, they often over- or under-exaggerate. They do what they must for you to see them in a certain light. To not take a risk. And these words, so carefully chosen, often have many meanings. If someone “loves” you, are they loving you as a part of humanity? As a friend? As a love interest? Are the nice things they say purely politeness? Meaningless flirting? Genuinely from the heart?

You could feel that your life would be empty without this person, yet they would hardly notice if you disappeared.
You may consider this person an interesting friend, while they’re falling in love with you.

And some of this also happens in person, but it is so much easier to de-sync through our screens.

All we can do is keep trying, and hope that
to someone,
somewhere,
we matter.

I have been falling asleep while typing this. I hope it makes sense. If not, well.. who cares?

Patterns

We all have our patterns. Some of these are comforting. Some give us structure. Some are harmful.

I have a habit of self-sabotage.

It all starts with an idea. Whatever the idea, I somehow think this will help me, give me the freedom and life that I need.

Then I start planning. I get psyched and dive right in. Then it overwhelms me and I start to drown in it. I go through these feelings a few times.

After a while, I get to a point where this can become a reality. Everything is in place and though it may not have gone smoothly, it has happened.

Then I fuck it up.

Sometimes right before the change, sometimes right after, I do something reckless to ruin it for myself. I tell myself that it’s the right thing, that it’s following my heart, when it’s really my way of failing on my own terms.

This conflict becomes a Hell that I struggle to turn into Heaven for far too long.

Finally, I’ve had enough. I let go of my demons and work to come up with an idea.

And it all starts again.

NO!

I’m not doing this again!

As much as I love the excitement of following my impulses, I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t keep lying to myself and pretending that my actions are not motivated by fear. It’s time to stop holding myself back.

It’s time to believe in myself.

I have a plan. It’s coming together. Every day, I’m tested. Every day, temptation tries to pull me away from my goal. Every day, part of me wants to give in, change my plans, follow my impulses. This part tells me that it must be fate intervening. It takes coincidences and decorates them in attractive colors and shiny gimmicks. It takes a few words and writes them in the sky. It swirls petals around my feet, sings a song of thunder and lightning, blows gently against my lips, lights a blaze inside the hearth.

But I must resist. I must see these things for what they are; moments of beauty too pure to last. I must cherish them, but walk away before I see them spoil.

I must keep moving forward.

And I can. I can. I will. I will gather my strength and resist the urge to cling to these precious souvenirs of hope and love. I will keep my goal in mind, never allowing the distractions to become deceptions.

I will make it.

I just have to believe.

Delete Delete Delete

I am finally, after 34 years, at a point where I am truly myself. No masking, no diluting, no persona to take control. And I want to show that, I want to help people see the real me… but there’s only so much they want to see. It differs with every person and it can be difficult to find the line.

Open up
Delete delete
Spill my guts
Delete delete delete
Say hi
Delete

I don’t know how to interact with people.

But I’m lucky, you know? I’m lucky because I found a few whom I truly fit with. Who, even when they don’t completely understand me, accept me. Adore me, even.

I don’t have to delete anymore.

And I guess that’s really what I need to follow. Not the ones who make me feel like there’s something wrong with me. Not the ones who make me wonder what they think or feel. Not the ones who keep me at arm’s length. The ones who show me that if I were gone, my absence would be felt.

Those are my people.

Those are the ones I won’t leave. I’d walk through Hell with them, without even being asked.

For the rest, I’ll simply fade away.

Numb?

Ever since I was young, I had a switch that I could flip in case of emergency. This switch took emotion out of the situation. No matter how much worse things became, I didn’t feel it. I was detached, cold, numb. This allowed me to do whatever was needed, in order to survive. Those who knew me well, could tell I was not myself. I faked it well for those who did not.

At 16, this detached version of me received a name: Roxy Jones. Roxy was seen as mysterious, intriguing. She was daring, as she felt no fear. She also felt nothing for those who grew infatuated, so it was common to see a trail of heartbreak behind her.

While this emotionless state was definitely useful, it also had its consequences. Without heart involved, it was easy to dismiss others. This could include ignoring them for any length of time, bluntly expressing indifference, and/or cutting ties with no explanation. Any action that best suited the current needs was quickly taken, without regard for others or even my own future emotions.

She smiled, but there was no warmth. She fought with unmatched strength and determination. She had a goal and would attain it, no matter the cost.

It could also become extremely difficult to come back from. Though it was known what emotion should be felt at any given moment, it was not quite felt. Using music and other passions, there would be constant attempts to summon true emotion. Usually these methods would at least cause a wanting for emotion. Eventually, something would get through to me and I would slowly come back to Life.

She saw the world as it was; a list of necessities and rules for gaining them. In memories, feelings were seen only as insignificant details. She knew, however, that I was still within her; watching, readying myself for my return. It was her duty to protect me, but she knew I would never lie dormant for long. Even when she resisted, attempted to suppress me, a loved one would reach me and I would pull myself out.

The most recent time this switch was flipped, it was more desperately needed than ever, more control was given over, and it lasted longer. Without the support of another, I alone had to bring myself back to Life. The struggle was lengthy and felt impossible, but I refused to be defeated.

She reminded me that I was alone. She reminded me that the world was painful. She made me wonder if I could make it on my own. I met each of her negative reminders with one of beauty. The joy was enough motivation. The passion for Life was still within me.

A few days ago, the world began to bury me once again. This time, I decided, I would be prepared. I asked my dearest friend to contact me after some time, to help inspire my return. I informed others that I would be absent for a while, to limit contact and so prevent negative social consequences. Then, I stepped back, relinquished control.

Only… This feels different. I have distanced myself, but do not feel truly disconnected. I cannot detach. I still possess control. Emotions, though quieter, are still felt. Others’ are still considered.

She’s gone. She’s really gone. It’s all on me now.

From now on, I’ll have to fight for myself.

Silence

I’ve not had much to say as of late. I have mostly been searching through the silence. I had surrounded myself with noise for so long, so I’d not have to see what lies in front of me.

I am reducing the clutter, so I can see what is important. It is not easy… I have held on to these for so long, it is difficult to accept that none of this amounted to anything. I know, though, that it is all weighing me down. How much more will I give to something that is never to be?

It is time.

It is time to make room for something real.

It is time to embrace the silence, so I can welcome something meaningful.

And I wish for help, someone to hold me accountable. I wish for caring sternness, so I will not falter. I know that I cannot have this, not yet. I must find all within before I can find it without. This knowledge is accompanied by fear, guilt, and overwhelming self doubt. Even so, I will fight on.

I may fail. I will fail. That will not stop me. As long as I can find the silence, I still have hope.

One day, I will not be alone in the silence. On that day, I will finally win.